


FFF #7 Happy Death Day

by FayWoods



Series: Flash Fiction Friday Prompts [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, DnD mentions I think, corpse mention but no decay, death mention, honestly, just sad, skeleton mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayWoods/pseuds/FayWoods
Summary: Flash Fiction Friday Prompt#7 Happy Death Day(it's not happy)
Series: Flash Fiction Friday Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954297
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	FFF #7 Happy Death Day

There are many ruins of long-forgotten civilizations in this world, for this world is the aftermath of great stories, not a place where great stories are written but a place where great stories from eons past are told. 

Crumbling stone, overgrown with all manner of plant life, housing birds and insects and rodents, the ruins of what must once have been a temple to a forgotten god. Patches of stone scorched by what must have been a bolt of magic long ago and the bones of a great beast slowly being devoured by those that live in the earth mark this place as a place of battle. 

As does the body lying, surrounded by ever-blooming flowers and never-growing moss, a few paces from the slain beast. A tiefling, still clad in colorful fabrics that refuse to rot, adorned in golden jewelry that refuses to lose its shine, and their body pristine safe for the bloody slash of claw marks across their chest, refusing to decay. 

Anyone with any affinity for magic could tell you that the ground around the body and the body itself is soaked with magic. Healing magic, strong and potent even if one cannot say what spell was used or who cast it. 

A gust of wind rushes through the ruins, making the flowers grown over the body sway. A bronze dragon - just on the cusp of adulthood, no less than 100 years old and no more than 110 - lands, careful not to disturb the never-decaying body nor the skeleton of the beast nor the ruins in which she lands. 

The dragon folds her wings as she trots, carefully, up to the body, gently touching it with her snout, letting out an anguished sound somewhere between a growl and a howl. The dragon lowered itself down next to the body, continuously letting out a sad trill as the sun slowly set behind the ruins.


End file.
